


snow bruises & macaroni frames

by dwreed



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Christmas Klance, M/M, Orphan Keith, this is just a lot of emotions i'm bad at fluff i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwreed/pseuds/dwreed
Summary: Keith knew the exact reason Keith hates Christmas is the reason Lance loves it; family, and where money couldn’t buy presents affection was enough, and home-made macaroni frames like Keith used to see in the movies. Keith would bet a hundred dollars that there were at least 3 macaroni ornaments on Lance’s tree at home.Macaroni ornaments that Lance might not ever see again.That Keith would never experience.





	snow bruises & macaroni frames

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chipofmint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chipofmint/gifts).



> some friends and i did a secret santa exchange and one of the desired prompts i got was Christmas Klance. hope you like it, Chip. <3

If there’s one holiday Keith absolutely hated, it was Christmas. 

 

He thinks he must have liked it when he was a kid, with all of the pretty festive lights, and the snow, and the Christmas movies playing on television. But as years and years went by he’d just grown bitter about it. He felt like a grandpa complaining about Christmas and how it had turned into a capitalism and consumerism nightmare, but to him that’s all it was. Being in foster care didn’t lend itself to very many good Christmas’s if the home he was staying in even celebrated Christmas at all. Instead of making him excited, the TV just reminded him of all of the things he didn’t have; enough money to buy the things everyone was advertising and no family to even buy it for. 

 

He’d become a sort of Grinch. 

 

Up in space, he hadn’t expected to have to deal with the grumpiness that came with Christmas time, and yet there Lance was, counting down the perceived days and whistling Christmas songs every time it got too quiet. When he couldn’t remember the lyrics he would make them up, and it was slowly driving Keith up the wall. He’d resolved to just moping around in his room to avoid it, attempting to block it out. More often than not, Hunk would join in on Lance’s joy, and then Pidge. 

 

Allura and Coran had been intrigued by the whole idea of Christmas, if not a little bit disturbed by the idea of Santa Clause (rightfully, Keith thought). Lance had made it sound so good and enjoyable, talking about the presents and Christmas lights and the one time he was able to experience snow on Christmas. Even Shiro’s eyes seemed to light up at the idea, mentioning that his favorite pastime had been to sit and watch Christmas movies with a cup of hot cocoa. 

 

The whole thing left a bitter taste in Keith’s mouth. 

 

And so there he was, face buried in his pillow with Pidge’s headphones on his head, techno blasting in his ears to drown out any noises or thoughts about Christmas. Shiro had come in at one point, to attempt to pry him out of bed, but Keith had refused vehemently, via blade.

 

Shiro decidedly left him alone.

 

It was a touch on his shoulder that snapped him out of his thoughts, his hand immediately coming to the blade at his belt and whipping around to bury it into the offender’s neck upon instinct. 

 

Lance was quick to disarm him, the knife clattering to the floor unceremoniously as their eyes locked. Keith’s eyes flickered to Lance’s lips as he spoke, but the music blaring through the headphones was still too loud. 

 

“What?” 

 

Lance rolled his eyes and snatched the headphones from Keith’s ears, and suddenly his room sounded way too quiet and Lance felt way too close. 

 

“Are you going to come outside or what? It’s snowing!” Lance hopped off of Keith’s mattress, as if unperturbed. Keith narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion. First of all, they were nowhere near Earth so he doubted it was  _ actually  _ snowing. Second; he was against Christmas on principle, so it wasn’t like he was excited at the prospect of snow. It was just another reminder of all of the Christmas music Lance had been singing for the past few weeks. 

 

“No.” He rejected the idea immediately, completely ready to go back to stewing in agitation. 

 

“But Keith, it’s  _ Christmas. _ ” 

 

“Yeah, you’ve been acting like it’s Christmas for the past  _ 3 weeks. _ ” Really, he thought he had a right to be mad about it. 

 

“Why are you such a Grinch?” Lance grouched. 

 

“Why are you so obnoxious? It’s not like Santa is going to come all way out to the middle of butt-fuck outer space to give you Christmas presents,” Keith snapped. 

 

Lance’s expression of mild annoyance turned to hurt, and Keith felt bad, for a little longer than a moment. He quickly squashed the feeling down. 

 

“Look, why don’t you go get Hunk or Pidge? I bet they’d be happy to go with you.” He reached for the headphones and Lance relented them, looking somewhere between angry and about to cry. 

 

Keith didn’t  _ want  _ to care. It was a lot easier to not; to pretend that it didn’t tug at his heartstrings. 

 

“No one wants to or they’re already comfy in bed. I already asked.” 

 

Keith sighed, criss-crossing his legs. 

 

“Why aren’t  _ you  _ asleep?” He reached for the blade on the floor, picking it up and sheathing it back into his belt. Lance shifted around in his pajamas, toying with his sleeves. 

 

“It’s  _ Christmas _ .” 

 

Keith knew the exact reason Keith hates Christmas is the reason Lance  _ loves  _ it; family, and where money couldn’t buy presents affection was enough, and home-made macaroni frames like Keith used to see in the movies. Keith would bet a hundred dollars that there were at least 3 macaroni ornaments on Lance’s tree at home. 

 

Macaroni ornaments that Lance might not ever see again. 

 

That Keith would never experience. 

 

Keith heaved out a deep breath and scooted himself off of his bed, grabbing his red jacket and sliding it over his shoulders as he attempted to get into his boots. “Fine. Let’s go.” Lance stared at him in blank shock for a moment before he darted from the room. 

 

“Let me put on my shoes!” He called as he exited. 

 

Keith took his time, dragging his feet as he made his way to the elevator, moving so slow that Lance was running past him in him Blue Paladin pajamas jamming the button and stepping in. He had to press the hold door button multiple times as Keith slumped his way down the hallway, and then finally they were downstairs, Lance running ahead of him in joy.

 

Keith stood in the doorway, watching Lance as he collapsed happily into the slush, his pajamas going a shade darker as the snow melted with his body heat. 

 

It was sort of worth it, seeing Lance’s smile the biggest Keith had seen in a long time, hearing him laugh like the weight of the war was no longer on his shoulders.

 

Not for the first time, Keith wondered what their life would’ve been like if this whole thing hadn’t happened. If Shiro had never disappeared on the Kerberos mission, if Keith would’ve graduated fighter class. If one day Lance would’ve come up to him and jabbed at him out of spite, if on that day Keith would’ve flirted with him, instead of reacting as agitated as he had when they’d found Shiro. 

 

How different would things have been? 

 

“Earth to Keith?” As if on cue, a snowball pummeled right into Keith’s face, and Keith sputtered, brushing the snow from himself as Lance cackled from where he’d apparently gotten sidetracked from his snowman. “What the heck are you thinking about, man?” 

 

His eyes were shining  _ more  _ than usual somehow. It was just because of the snow, Keith excused. He reached down to gather up some snow. 

 

“I’m thinking about to get all of this snow into the castle so I can dump it on you while you’re sleeping,” he retaliated dryly. Lance scooted behind his snowman, fluttering his eyelashes in faux innocence.

 

“Why? Have I annoyed you more than usual-” He was forced to duck as Keith threw the snowball at him. It grazed Lance’s shoulder, and when Lance emerged he was throwing another snowball at Keith. 

 

If they were in any way normal the snowball fight would’ve ended pretty quickly, but it dragged on so long that they had each made barricades of snow, Keith felt bruised all over, and  _ freezing  _ and like he shouldn’t have had as much fun as he had. He felt like he should be grumpy, and not at all like he was wheezing and out of breath from laughing next to Lance in the snow. 

 

Lance’s laughter seemed to fill up Keith’s entire chest, making him warm and making his heart rabbit in his chest.

 

“Okay. I’ll admit that I didn’t miss how cold it gets when it snows. But the rest was fun.” Lance turned to look at him, snowflakes catching on his eyelashes. 

 

“I guess.” Keith pushed himself up onto his elbows, shaking out his wet hair and letting out a hard shiver. “Okay, I’m going inside before I die.” He stood to his feet, hearing Lance scoff behind him. 

 

“That’s a bit dramatic.” Lance’s smile softened as Keith offered a hand out to him, pulling Lance to his feet. Lance’s hand lingered in his - it wasn’t exactly pleasant. They were both clammy from the cold, but neither of them made a move to break the contact. “Uhm…” 

 

Keith’s hand twitched in Lance’s. 

 

“Thanks for coming out with me, Keith. I know you didn’t want to.” Lance looked down at their hands. The contact was going on for too long - probably awkwardly long - but Keith was kind of trying to talk himself up to doing more than just holding Lance’s hand. 

 

“It’s fine. I’m kind of sore from sitting around for too long anyway.” He tried to brush it off. 

 

“Oh! I have a present for you. I gave everyone else their’s already, but you were being such a Grumpy Gus I didn’t get a chance to give you yours.” Lance tugged on his hand, dragging him back into the Castle of Lions as if Keith didn’t know his way around. Keith wasn’t about to complain. 

 

Lance didn’t let go when they got into the elevator, and Keith felt like he was holding his breath as Lance led them to his room. The door  _ whooshed  _ open with their entrance, and finally, Lance released Keith’s hand. 

 

His palm felt cold. 

 

Lance rummaged through the trunk at his bedside for a moment, humming in thought as he dug through some of his belongings until finally he pulled out a package wrapped in red gift wrap and tied off with a bow. 

 

Finally, what was going on registered with Keith. He sputtered a bit, cheeks going red. He felt distinctly uncomfortable. 

 

“Lance, I can’t accept this.” He stepped back and clasped his hands behind his back, as if it would stop Lance from handing it over. 

 

He’d gotten a present from Shiro once, but had felt so incredibly awful about it and had protested so much that Shiro had let him return it. Not because he didn’t want it, but because it made him feel anxiety that he didn’t entirely understand. As someone as impulsive as Keith, he didn’t do well with surprises - not when they were the  _ nice  _ kind. 

 

“Of course you can, silly. It’s not a big deal. I made one for everyone.” Lance held out the box more insistently, but Keith still didn’t take it. He got so close to the door that it  _ whooshed  _ back open. 

 

“I didn’t get you anything.” He didn’t get  _ anyone  _ anything. Oh god, what if the others got him presents? And he hadn’t gotten anyone anything? 

 

_ Wouldn’t be the first time.  _

 

“I don’t want anything-”

 

“Neither do I.” 

 

Keith was staring down at his boots, shivering because his clothes were cold and wet and he  _ didn’t  _ like this situation. He could feel Lance staring at him, could feel the tension in the room. Lance sighed. 

 

“... Okay. Well it’s here if you change your mind.” 

 

Keith turned on his heel and high-tailed it to his room, feeling like he might puke, or cry, or both. He decided to get into the shower first, before wallowing in self pity, lest he get sick  _ and  _ feel like complete and utter shit. 

 

Once he emerged he pulled on a pair of boxers, shifting around uncomfortably and pondering going to take Lance’s gift, just so that he wouldn’t wake up to Lance’s fake smile tomorrow. 

 

Just so that he could see Lance laugh at breakfast tomorrow morning and mean it. 

 

_ Assuming  _ it would even effect Lance that much. 

 

Keith swallowed his nausea and stepped out the door, almost running into the boy invading his thoughts who was waiting right outside the door. They stared at each other for a long moment. 

 

“I was just uh… going to leave this for you in case you changed your mind.” Lance gave him a weak smile - it didn’t reach his eyes. Keith swallowed thickly and accepted the box, hands shaking. “You don’t have to take it-” 

 

“Shut up.” He untied the bow and carefully undid the wrapping paper, as if handling something fragile. Lance shifted around uncomfortably, lion slippers shuffling on the floor as Keith carefully removed the contents from the box. 

 

It was a knitted red sweater, the Voltron symbol on the front like their armor, and an  _ 02  _ on the back. 

 

“Where’d you get this?” He held it to his chest, which he  _ just  _ remembered was bare. 

 

“I made it.” Lance gave him a hesitant smile when he looked up, and Keith could feel his heart in his throat. 

 

“You didn’t have to do that…” He managed. 

 

“I wanted to…”

 

The silence wasn’t as tense anymore. A lot felt unspoken, but Keith didn’t know how to begin saying any of it. 

 

“Anyways. You should get some sleep. Have a good night, Keith. Merry Christmas.” Lance gave a small wave and then retired to his room, leaving Keith standing there with his heart in his throat and his chest aching. He stepped back into his room and watched the door close in front of him, sweater held close to his chest. 

 

He wandered over to his bed and plopped down onto the sheets, curled around the sweater until he got cold again. He pulled it up and over his head and crossed his arms under his head so he could bury his face into the knitting. 

 

It smelled like cinnamon and Lance’s soap. 

 

Maybe next year he could do Christmas. 

 

_ Maybe.  _


End file.
